Evil.

Ancient times when humans first began civilization. War did not exist, though fights did break out now and then on a minor scale. Humanity was starting and everything was peaceful. There was a young boy, born into a small village. He had a kind father, a hard worker who worked with the village council on the layout of the village, and a compassionate mother who sold clothes she personally sewed on the market and often took care of him.

One day, an accident occurred which resulted in his mother's death, an argument between the father and a fellow council member resulted in a mercenary later breaking into their family home and bludgeoning his mother to death. His father, who was always calm and civil, snapped. He broke into his fellow council member's home, tied the man down and had let him watch as he skinned his wife and children before using his wife's sewing needles to stitch together a blanket made of their skin, covering the man in it before he trudged back home. Later, when the neighbor's came by, they saw the councilman lying in a pool of his own blood, a knife in hand. The outrage and search for the culprit lead to the establishment of a task force meant to truly enforce laws, the first signs of changing times in a world was stagnant. Peace had gone on for far too long.

Eventually, under the investigation of the new task force, the boy's father was found and sentenced to death.

Alone, the boy had nowhere to go, no one wanted the child of what many deemed to be a vile fiend. For awhile, the boy was fine on his own with what was leftover from his parents, but that quickly changed. As a young child he didn't understand the notion of rationing his supplies, and soon the boy was starving. Then came a tall, dark figure, a lanky older boy. His estranged older brother, who had been cast out from the family long ago. He was born a deviant, always causing trouble, and as his brother grew more and got mixed in with the wrong crowd his tendency to cause trouble became violent. Having heard about his younger brother's plight, the older brother took him in.

However, the boy would work for the older brother and his crew, while the boy distracted the owner's of homes the crew would sneak into their homes and collect whatever valuables were inside. One day, they were caught, the owner of the home having grabbed hold of one of them in their anger, the older brother, seeing a weapon nearby, silently signaled to the boy to pick it up and attack the owner, but the boy refused. Angered, the older brother sneakily shuffled towards it, and upon successfully grabbing it immediately charged towards the owner and pierced them right through their chest. This time, the older brother signaled to the boy to help in disposing of the body, and while hesitant and distraught, the boy relented, it was still better than having personally killed the man.

Though there was no body, many suspected that the owner had died, however any efforts by the task force to investigate failed as there was no evidence. A year had passed, and one of the first schools was established, with all young children welcome. The boy, having grown tired of the violent life his brother led, attempted attending school, quickly catching the eye of one of the elders in charge of passing on hunting skills. Accepting the boy as a disciple, the elder passed on his knowledge to the boy, teaching him to craft bows, to track animals, to hunt. The boy enjoyed the attention and praise, however the elder soon accepted yet another disciple, one who's talent for hunting exceeded even the boy's own.

At first, the boy was simply annoyed, yet as years passed the favoritism his master showed towards the younger disciple drew out the boy's hatred. One day, while with his older brother and his crew, they suggested something, they suggested the boy take the younger disciple's life. Naturally, the boy refused, but the idea never left. At night, the thought would come to mind, during the day when his master showered endless praise on the younger disciple, it would also come to mind.

Festering like mold in the dark, abandoned corner of his mind, the boy gradually grew to contemplate the idea. Then, an opportunity came, the disciples would be sent out into the surrounding forests for a week as a test, as well as to help the village stock up for the winter. When the announcement came, the boy resolved himself to the deed. He embedded three pikes into the ground in a triangular pattern before putting a stick in between them, with two pikes on one end and one in the center on the other side of the stick. He was bending the stick, holding it in place to form the curve of a bow. Taking string formed from some natural fibers in plants and attaching them at both ends, the boy finished crafting his bow.

The next morning, while the first rays of light lit the world, the boy, along with his master and junior brother, went stood in front of the forest. After being given instructions, they headed into the forest.

Days passed, and when the test was over only the boy, now a man, returned. The master camped at the edge of the forest for a week, yet the young disciple never returned.

Years passed by, on and on, like a river ceaselessly flowing, and the man underwent great change. After the events in the forest, the relationship with the man and his master became strained, perhaps he suspected him of something. Eventually, the man broke off all communication with his master, and decided to head out of the village to see the world. The man traversed the tallest peaks, he conquered the mightiest of rivers, forming a band of fiends of his own like his brother once did. Together, they conquered the world, together they plunged the world into war.

Countless died, families and lands torn apart. Ash clouds covered the world, threatening to suffocate its inhabitants. Up, in a large palace, in front of a throne made of the bones=, the man stood there, bow in hand, facing a warrior wielding a sword.

The people praised this warrior as just, a hero, who fought for the future of the world. Born into a nice family, the warrior lost his mother to a bandit at a young age, driving his father to raid their base, and though he ultimately succeeded in killing the chief the wounds from the confrontation ended up claiming his life. Left alone, the then young warrior struggled to survive on his own, resorting to petty thievery and the likes, until he fell into the good graces of an elderly man who saw potential in him.

"We both started off the same, you and I, this cruel world both stole our parents, plunged us into it's darkest depths. We had to fight, to cheat, to steal just to live another day. So I sought to plunge the world into darkness. Why? Why is it that you came out so different?"

The warrior, hearing the man's words, pointed his sword at him and said, "Because you believe that what happened to you is a tragedy, that the world owes you for what it 'stole' from you."

"And so WHAT! Are our lives not a tragedy! Did my mother deserve her death, did my father deserve his! All I had left after was my deranged brother, who led me further into the bleak pits of the world. The only light in my life was my master, who so graciously took me in, and even he cast me aside for that pathetic junior brother of mine." Spit flew about as the man raged on, eyes wide and bloodshot with rage and a slight welling of tears from sheer frustration.

Calmly, the warrior replied. "What happened to your family is indeed a tragedy, but what happened to you is not. If we were all branches on a tree, most of us would be born straight, however some, like your brother, are simply born bent out of shape. For those of us who are not, we are constantly pelted upon by the pressure of the world, whether that be the wind that relentlessly beats down on us, or the animals which stomp on our backs. Under the pressure of the world, your father snapped.

A tragedy is your poor brother, who was born twisted and yet called evil, and tragedy is your poor father, who snapped under the pressure of the world and was proclaimed evil because of it. You are not a tragedy, because you chose to bend. Under the pressure of the world, you could've persevered, and perhaps have ended up like me, straight and resilient, or like your father, holding on until he snapped, and yet you chose to bend, perhaps in this sense you are like the weapon you wield. You compromised with your morals, allowing yourself to gradually convince yourself to go lower and lower until you reached where you are now. You are not a tragedy, you are evil, true evil."

Finishing his speech, the warrior took a step forward, and began to charge at the man. The man, having no words left to speak, aimed his bow at the warrior, letting loose a volley of arrows. No one outside the palace knows what who won in the end, and the struggle between good and evil has existed since then.